


The Cut That Always Bleeds

by creatio_ex_nihilo



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Complete, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Rollercoaster, Enemy Lovers, I'm Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, Kissing, M/M, Sad Ending, Visitor George, fundy gets lowkey dissed by the characters im so sorry, prisoner dream, sam is there for like two seconds, sapnap is concerned, this fic is very lore based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creatio_ex_nihilo/pseuds/creatio_ex_nihilo
Summary: But as the bridge gets closer, George starts to make out a grin on Dream’s face. That stupid, stupid grin that use to make butterflies fly around his stomach.“George!” Dream calls out. George recognizes the way his eyes light  up whenever he is excited. With an expression like that, it almost seems like Dream forgot he was in prison at all.Oh boy, George was a goner.------------------------------------------------------------AKA George visits Dream in prison for closure but his stupid feelings get the best of him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 320





	1. The Lie Between Your Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> So....I started writing this because I saw a tik tok of Dream singing "Good Little Girl" to George and wanted to write a one-shot on it, but the story ended up a lot longer (and way more angsty) than I anticipated. I blame my cousin for enabling me like this. 
> 
> ALSO there are a lot of SMP events that are mentioned in this story, so if you're not caught up with the lore you might get spoiled!
> 
> Enjoy my first dnf fic :)

George realizes too late that this is a bad idea. 

It isn't until he’s standing face to face with a wall of lava that he starts feeling uneasiness crawling into his stomach. Not because he’s mere inches away from a substance that could kill him in seconds, but because he knows what is on the other side. Or rather, _who._

“It’ll be any second now, George,” Sam says from behind him, clad in his netherite armor. George gulps. He feels practically naked without any of his stuff. Definitely not an ideal feeling to have when you’re about to see your ex-best-friend-turned-tyrant. 

The wall of lava starts to slowly drain down, revealing a sea of orange surrounding a single obsidian cell. Eventually, the lava was low enough for George to see Dream, waiting in his cell for his visitor. George wants to turn around and run.

But before he could even move a muscle, Sam spoke up again. “Stand on the bridge and move with it as it goes towards the prisoner. And remember, you’ll be stuck there with him until you tell me you’re ready to leave.” 

All George could do is nod. His nerves didn’t even allow him to audibly reply. The stone brick below his feet starts to move, pushing him closer and closer to Dream. As he walks, George reminds himself that the man in front of him isn’t his friend anymore. He’s a tyrant. A criminal. A threat to all his friends on the SMP. George can’t let his past feelings cloud his judgement. He isn’t there to forgive Dream and welcome him back with open arms. This visit is purely for closure. 

But as the bridge gets closer, George starts to make out a grin on Dream’s face. That stupid, stupid grin that use to make butterflies fly around his stomach. 

“George!” Dream calls out. George recognizes the way his eyes light up whenever he is excited. With an expression like that, it almost seems like Dream forgot he was in prison at all. 

Oh boy, George was a goner. 

His feet reach the obsidian and the stone bridge retracts as the lava starts to fill again. George looks back at Sam one last time before the orange substance obstructs his view. 

“Welcome to my crib,” Dream jokes as he gestures around his tiny obsidian cell. It was almost sad how little there was to see. All Dream has is a tiny bed, a sink and toilet, a desk with a few books and loose papers, and a clock hanging on the wall. George feels sorry for him for about 0.2 seconds until he forcefully pushes those feelings away. “Sorry, it’s a little messy. Wasn’t expecting visitors.” 

George chews on his lips as he looks at his ex-best-friend. He looks different. Scruffier. With the lack of razors, he probably hasn’t shaved since he arrived at the prison. George hates to admit it, but the stubble kind of suited him. That coupled with the new scar over his eye from his fight with Tommy made him look all the more attractive. Even the way Dream’s orange jumpsuit hugs his body is enough for George’s mind to run wild. He can tell that this motherfucker’s been working out in his cell. 

“You look pretty bad,” George lies, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dream chuckles in response. “You wound me, George. Is that all you have to say to me after all this time?” 

George scoffs, “Of course not. You know why I’m here.” 

The prisoner quirks up an eyebrow and smirks. George loves— no, _loathes_ his dumb smirk. “Oh, really? Care to remind me?” Dream taunts as he sits down on his bed and leans back on his hands. 

“You’re so annoying” George mumbles as he reaches into his back pocket and shows him the only items Sam allowed him to bring in. A bunch of crumpled up pieces of paper. “Here.”

“...You’re here to give me trash?”

George rolls his eyes, tossing the pages onto the bed next to Dream. “They’re your letters. I came to tell you to stop writing to me.” 

Almost every day since Dream was imprisoned, a letter would appear at his doorstep. None of them were ever signed, but George knew that they were from him. Each letter would reminisce about the early days of the SMP when it was just the two of them. Before any factions, before any wars, before any betrayals, there were just two best friends, trying to survive and build a home together. The letters were filled to the brim with recountings of old adventures and inside jokes. Only Dream could have written those. 

Whenever George received one, he wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Everyday, he was reminded of what they used to have. What he had lost since then. These letters had to be some sort of cruel, cruel joke from Dream, a way to force George to relive the past. 

Dream picks up one of the pages and examines it carefully, the smirk from before now gone. He’s silent for a few moments until he softly admits, “I...I thought you’d like them.” 

George gapes at him. He definitely wasn’t expecting that kind of response, especially not one with such a genuine tone. “What? Why on earth would I like them?” 

Dream looks up at him, causing George to nearly melt under the gaze of those emerald green eyes. “Talking about the good old days. Don’t most people like doing that?” 

“ _Friends_ do that, Dream,” George points out. “We aren’t friends anymore. Not after what you did.” 

A thick silence fills the room for what seems like eternity. George, deciding to end this horrible visit, walks towards the lava, ready to call for Sam. 

“George, wait,” Dream starts. His voice sounds so vulnerable, so _desperate_. He stands up from the bed and walks towards him. His hand rests on George’s shoulder and makes him turn to face him. They were close enough for George to see the freckles dotting Dream’s cheeks. “Look, I’m sorr—” 

“No! No, you can’t do this to me again,” George interrupts, slapping his hand away from him. Anger and frustration starts to fill his stomach. “You can’t just expect me to forgive you just because you apologize! Do you even know how much you hurt me? How much you’ve hurt Sapnap?” 

George can still vividly remember the day he was dethroned. He recalls Sapnap coming to his aide as Dream revoked his crown. The two got into a heated argument and at one point, he remembers Sapnap telling Dream, “Just say it.” 

“ _Just say you hate me_.” 

Dream’s silence answered for him.

George laughs bitterly. “Of course not. Because you don’t think of anyone but yourself!” His finger jabbed into Dream’s chest. “It’s always about you _this_ and you _that_ , isn’t it? It’s just like what you told Tommy. You don’t give a fuck about anything! And I was dumb enough to think that you actually gave a fuck about me!” 

Tears nearly started to form in George’s eyes, “I hate you. I never want to see you again.” 

Dream’s eyes bore into George’s for a few moments, a deep frown forming on the inmate’s face. “...You’re a liar.” 

“What did you call me?” George asks, incredulously. 

“A liar,” Dream repeats. 

George wants to scream and yell and curse. His frustration with him only grew with each passing moment. His hands move to push Dream away, but Dream catches his wrists. 

“Why are you here, George. Why are you _really_ here?” he asks, grip tightening as he looks down at the ex-king. 

“Were you even listening? I came to tell you to leave me alone!” George struggles against his former friend’s grip.

“Why couldn’t you write that to me then, huh? If you hated me so much, why did you come this far just to see me?” 

George’s struggling hesitates for a split second as he thinks about Dream’s words. He has a point. It’s not like George absolutely _needed_ to come. He knows perfectly well that he could have ignored the letters and simply moved on. Yet here he is, standing dangerously close to the man he should want dead.

“Don’t flatter yourself, you psycho,” George spits, trying to ignore the stirring of familiar feelings in his stomach.

“You were always so easy to read. Just admit it, George,” Dream says, leaning down right next to George’s ear. His breath brushes against his skin, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. The familiar scent of his ex-best-friend floods his senses, and for some reason, George can’t get enough of it. Dream’s voice drops low as he whispers, “You missed me, didn’t you?”

A choking noise comes out of the back of George’s throat. This isn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to find closure. He was going to say goodbye to Dream for _good_. To leave him behind in this cell to rot by himself. But now, he’s getting sucked right back in.

George’s arms went limp, causing Dream to pull away from his ear and look at him with a soft expression. A stream of tears had started falling down George’s cheeks. Dream’s hands went up to gently wipe them away. His fingers traced his jawline as if George was the most precious thing in the world. 

“I hate you. I hate you so much,” George says between sniffles, his words much less convincing than the first time he said them. 

Dream’s lips curve up just the slightest as he rests his forehead against his. “I love you, too, George. You know I always have.” 

George sobs, his hands balling into fists and softly hitting themselves against Dream’s chest. “Why?” he asks, his voice cracking. “Why do you always do this to me? Y-you give me the world and then as soon as I accept it, you just take it all away. Why do you keep leaving me?”

“You know I don’t mean to hurt you,” Dream whispers, their noses brushing against each other. “Everything I’ve done has been for you, George.”

God, George wants to believe him. Every fiber of his being wants to forget about everything and just kiss him until their lips turn swollen red. But he can’t. 

“Now, who’s the liar?” George says, blinking away his tears. He pushes himself away from Dream, immediately missing the warmth of his hands and forehead. 

“I’m serious, George,” Dream defends, dropping his hands to his sides, “People wanted to kill you when you were King. I was just trying to protect you!”

“Oh yeah? Were you trying to protect me when you blew up my nation?” George challenges. The angry feeling in his stomach started to stir again. “When you threatened to kill us if we defied you?” 

Dream opens his mouth to rebut but George continues before he could get a word out. 

“Were you protecting me at the wedding?” George asks, expression morphing into one of genuine hurt. “When you left me at the damn altar and disappeared for weeks?” 

Dream’s expression softed. “George, please, I—”

“I kissed you! In front of everyone!” George yelled. “I made a fool of myself because I was acting like a lovesick idiot.” His eyes narrow at the man in front of him. “And you just _left_ me there.” 

“You don’t think I wanted to stay with you?” Dream retaliates, stepping closer to George. “You don’t think I wanted it to be _you_ at that altar instead of Fundy?”

“Then, _why_ , Dream?” George cries, his face flushing with frustration. “If you wanted me so much, why did you leave me? Why did you even agree to marry Fundy in the first place? Why the _fuck_ would you make me think you didn’t love me?” 

Dream takes another step towards him. “Because I _couldn’t_ be with you, George,” he explains. “Not while I had so many people after my head. I couldn’t risk you getting involved.”

“Why? So your enemies wouldn’t have any leverage against you? One less person to worry about in your little political game?” George scoffs. “Is that all you see me as? A liability?” 

This time, George is the one to step towards Dream, confidence surging into his veins. “You are just so full of _shit_ , Dream,” George continues, rage etched into his voice. “You don’t think I can take care of myself? You don’t think you could have told me all of this before you went and ruined everything? God, Dream, what the hell were you thinking?”

George thinks back to everything Sapnap told him about what Dream had done. Banishing and gaslighting Tommy, blowing up L’Manberg, threatening to kill Tubbo for those stupid discs— George can hardly recognize the cheery, best friend he once adored. 

A part of him thinks that if he stayed by his side, if he never had his falling out with Dream, then maybe just _maybe_ , Dream wouldn’t have done all those things.

What a horribly naive thought to have.

“You are the most pathetic person I’ve ever met,” George scorns, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “Forget whatever fucked up relationship we had before because I’m _done_. Go ahead and _die_ for all I care.” 

He expects a loud response. He expects Dream to defend himself and come up with excuse after excuse. But instead, Dream grabs George’s wrist and leads him to the wall of lava. 

“Don’t touch me—” George warns, but his voice falters as he watches Dream position himself in front of the hot orange substance. He guides George’s hand to his chest, laying his palm flat against the orange fabric of his prison uniform. 

“Then kill me.”

George’s heart feels a tug and he’s silent for a few moments. He searches for any sign of joking from Dream’s expression, but there was nothing but a cold and broken look in Dream’s eyes. “...What?” 

“Push me,” Dream demands, using George’s wrist to put more pressure up against his own chest. “One little push and I’ll be out of your life forever.”

George intakes a sharp breath. His hand trembles against Dream as he actually considers it. 

He thinks of all the times Dream had hurt him. Each time he left. Each time he chose someone else. Each time he made him cry. The amount of pain he’s caused could last him a lifetime. God, George was so _so_ tired of it all. 

His hand puts the tiniest bit of pressure against him. 

“Just do it, George!” Dream urges. “Show me how much you hate me!” 

He becomes so close to ending it all. Ending all the pain and suffering he’s been put through.

But then he imagines Dream sinking into the lava, skin burning and bones disintegrating. That beautiful face of his, melting into a sick distortion of flesh and blood until there was nothing left but a horrible memory. 

Somehow, the thought of that brings more pain to George than he could ever imagine. 

“I-I can’t,” George whimpers, pulling away his hand. 

They stand there for an excruciatingly long moment, cloaked in silence.

Then, Dream leans back towards the lava.

George doesn’t know why he moves. He doesn’t know why his hands shoot out to grab Dream’s shoulders. He doesn’t know why a small cry escaped his lips as if his own life flashed before his eyes. 

“Don’t,” George whispers with a defeated tone. His eyes well up with tears once again as he admits his lie. “I don’t want you to die.”

A pair of strong arms wrap around George’s skinny figure as Dream bends down and buries his face into the crook of the other man’s neck. As if second nature, George’s own arms moved to wrap around the prisoner, pulling the two of them closer together and away from the lava. The warmth of being in his arms again felt so _good_. So _right_. The feeling of being loved, being wanted, being protected— it’s all George can feel in Dream’s arms. 

It scares him how much he loves Dream. 

“Oh, thank god,” Dream whispers back, his voice shaky as if he was on the verge of breaking. “Everyone left me, George. I can’t lose you, too.” 

George can feel Dream practically crumble against him. He recognizes the way that Dream’s shoulders start to tremble, the way his arms tighten around him, the way his breath becomes staggered. It wasn’t long until the tyrannical terrorist starts crying against George’s neck, the soft sound of his sobs echoing within the obsidian room.

And George, feeling the hot lava melt away his barriers, finally starts to see the Dream he once knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/creatio_nihilo) !!!  
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated <33


	2. Kiss The Bruises 'Til They're Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't already know, the fic is named after The Cut That Always Bleeds by Conan Gray. So. Go listen to it :)

“Wait, what?!” Sapnap exclaims. “You actually want to go _back_?”

Well, that isn’t the reply George was hoping for. He lets out an exasperated sigh and buries his face in his hands. “Sapnap, am I going crazy?” 

“For wanting to see that bastard again? Yes, absolutely.”

“But...he just seemed so- so—”

Sapnap cuts him off. “Let me guess,” he sighs. “He seemed so _genuine_ when he apologized and said that he loves you.”

George stays silent.

“Guess I hit the nail on the head,” Sapnap says, rolling his eyes. “Typical _Dream_ move.”

“Okay, okay, I know he’s pulled this shit before,” George starts, putting his hands up in defense. “But it’s different this time. He actually _talked_ to me. About his _feelings_! He never used to do that.” 

Sapnap gives him an unamused look. A look that screamed ‘ _you’ve gotta be kidding me’_. 

George lets out a frustrated groan. “You weren’t there, Sapnap. You wouldn’t understand.” 

His last visit with Dream didn’t go how George had planned. Hell, not even close. What he thought was going to be a curt goodbye actually ended with Dream curled up in George’s arms, the two of them practically cuddling up to each other as Dream spilled his heart to him. 

_“I used to have_ everything _,” the prisoner had said, a pained look on his face. “I had a home. Pets. Friends. But I fucked up and hurt so many people, George._ So _many people. And now I have nothing but a stupid clock.” Dream’s sniffles echoed across the room. “God, I-I’m just so alone, George. I wish I never pushed anyone away.” Dream craned his neck to look at George, their faces only inches away from one another._

 _“I wish I never pushed_ you _away.”_

“He’s… he’s really sorry, Sapnap. And he’s lonely in there,” George says, a downcast expression on his face. “I just feel bad for him.” 

Sapnap hesitantly eyes George for a moment before letting out a sigh in defeat. “Alright, fine. I believe you. But that doesn’t mean I’m anywhere near forgiving him,” he explains. “Just...promise me that you’ll be careful this time.”

George furrows his eyebrows. “What do you me—”

“You know what I mean, George,” Sapnap interjects with a stern voice. “I’ve seen you cry over him too many times. _Way_ too many times. I know how much you love him, but I don’t want to see you like that ever again.” He places his hands on George’s shoulders. “Just promise me that you won’t let him hurt you.” 

A small smile hesitantly forms on George’s face. “I promise.”

———————————————————————— 

The next time George visits, he is met with yet another warm smile from Dream. He reminds himself, _keep your distance_. 

“Welcome back, George,” Dream greets as George steps off the moving stone and lava engulfs the cell. “I missed you.”

George bites his lip to stop himself from saying _‘I missed you, too’._

“It’s only been a few days,” George points out. “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

Dream lets out a chuckle, making George’s heart flutter. “So, what are you doing back so soon?”

“I, uh. I got you something,” George responds, sheepishly. “I felt kinda bad that there’s not much to look at in here. Had to convince Sam to let me bring this in.” He holds up a folded piece of paper. 

“More trash?”

“Why is that always your first answer?” George rolls his eyes but an amused smirk grows on his lips. He unfolds the paper and turns it over to show Dream. A picture of Dream, George, and Sapnap was printed onto the poster, the three of them huddled together to fit into the frame, wide smiles plastered on their faces. “It’s an old photo but it’s the only one I had.” 

“No way! I remember this,” Dream says, excitingly taking the photo from George’s hand. “This was when we finished the community house, right?”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” George replies, looking up at Dream. He recognizes that bright-eyed look on his face. “I’m surprised you even remember.”

“Of course, I do. It was one of our first milestones together,” Dream claims, taking his eyes off the photo and looking down at the visitor. A soft expression grew on the prisoners face. “Thank you for bringing this, Georgie.”

Heat rushes up to George’s cheeks and his body tenses. It feels like forever since the last time anyone has called him that. “Oh— uh, yeah, y-you’re welcome,” he stammers, averting his gaze. “Don’t expect anything else from me, though.” 

Dream’s green eyes narrow slightly. “...George, are you blushing?”

“What? No!”

“Oh my god, you are! Is it cause I called you ‘Georgie’?”

“Shut up! I was caught off guard, okay?”

Another chuckle escapes Dream’s lips. “Whatever you say, Georgie.”

George lets out a huff and crosses his arms in embarrassment. 

“But let me just say,” Dream starts, leaning in close to George’s ear and watching that become red, too. “You look adorable when you blush.”

Dream nearly doubles over laughing as he witnesses George’s face become a tomato. _So much for keeping distance._

————————————————————————

George wants to believe that he keeps visiting Dream because he pities him. He tells himself that the poor guy had nothing to do in there so he _must_ be suffering. Sure, he might deserve it but it wouldn’t _hurt_ to see him every once in a while, right? _Right_?

Oh, he was so very _wrong_. 

Every time he sees Dream, he can feel himself getting more and more comfortable around him. At first, he tried to keep his visits short. Like a quick little check in to see if he’s doing alright. He really tried to keep his distance, both physically and emotionally. In and out, ten minutes tops. 

But Dream naturally draws him in. His visits start becoming longer and more frequent. Their conversations become more relaxed, almost forgetting about the events that led them to this moment. He finds himself laughing along with Dream as they talk about the most random topics. They start getting closer in a more physical sense, too. George doesn’t scoot away when Dream’s arm presses up against him as they sit on his bed. He lets Dream ruffle his hair whenever he gets in a teasing mood. Playful pushes and pokes basically become a habit. And eventually, their hands start finding themselves intertwined with one another, without any protest from George. Neither of them bring attention to their locked fingers, but the way Dream’s thumb softly strokes George’s hand doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Glimpses of their past friendship start seeping through, and that terrifies George to his core. Because being with Dream is like playing with fire. It’s all fun and games until you get too close and you get burned. 

And despite George’s experience with getting burnt, he keeps coming back. Again and again and again. George starts to think he really is going crazy for repeating history, for making the same dumb choice that led to so many tearful nights. 

But then he realizes that there’s something different this time around. 

He realizes it when he’s chatting with Sam (or at least _trying_ to chat with Sam) as he lets him into the prison. George tries to make small talk with the warden to ease up the awkward silences between them, but he always ends up making it more awkward. 

“Are you this quiet with the other visitors or just me?” George asks as Sam searches his person for hidden items. To be completely honest, he doesn’t expect an answer, so he’s genuinely shocked when Sam responds. 

“There aren’t any other visitors.” 

Oh. _Oh_. 

So George was the only one. The only person to come see him after all this time. An eternal sentence is an obsidian room, and apart from Sam, George was the only human interaction Dream had. 

A part of George does feel bad. He does feel sympathy for the pitiful prisoner, but his mind immediately comes to an intriguing conclusion. 

For once in their relationship, it was impossible for Dream to leave him. 

All this time, George was afraid that Dream would abandon him again. That he would leave him and his broken heart behind, just as he did so many times before. But there, within those cell walls, it’s only them. There are no wars, no elections, no obstacles between them anymore. Dream can’t choose to leave him because there is _literally_ no where to go. 

George could love him without feeling scared of losing him. 

Playing with fire never felt so tempting, and the next time George visits Dream, he lights a flame. 

“George, what the hell happened to you?” Dream asks, his voice dripping with worry. The prisoner reaches out and gently grabs George’s chin to examine his face. 

His left eye swells a purple hue, obstructing his vision slightly. Red marks dot across his forehead and cheeks, and deep cuts sting against George’s eyebrow and bottom lip. In short, he looks like he got his ass handed to him. 

George lets out a tired sigh, his bruised body yearning for rest. “I, uh. I was kind of attacked,” he explains, slightly wincing as Dream’s other hand goes up to touch his black eye. “I thought that I would be safe in the Holy Lands, but I guess since you’re in here…”

He trails off, but Dream knows exactly what he was trying to say. Without Dream there to punish people for violence in the Holy Lands, it was basically open season. 

“Fuck, George, I am so _so_ sorry,” Dream apologizes, his face morphing into one of pure guilt. “I should’ve been there. To protect you.”

George feels a lump form in his throat as he remembers the brutal beating, how he deeply wished Dream was there to stop his attackers. “S’fine. It’s not your fault,” he responds in a small voice, looking down at his feet. 

“No, it’s not fine!” Dream exclaims. “George, you literally have a black eye and a busted lip. If I were there, I would have fucked up anyone who even got close to your pretty face.” 

“Well, the damage has been done, Dream, you’re too late,” he points out with a bittersweet grin. “But...I know how you can make it up to me.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

George tilts up his face to lock eyes with Dream. His voice drops to a soft whisper. “You can kiss them better.” 

The worry seems to melt away from Dream as his shoulders slack and gaze softens. George’s words had crossed into a territory that neither of them had crossed into before. Sure, they’ve been physically intimate before, but it was always an unspoken act. Their bodies would naturally gravitate to each other, skin burned against skin in a silent agreement. No need for silly words, they let their bodies speak for themselves.

But now, George was making Dream listen.

Dream’s hand gently cups George’s bruised face, his fingers grazing his jawline as his thumbs caress his flushed cheeks. Touch so soft it was as if George was made of glass. He looks down at George with a hesitant expression, as if asking, _are you sure?_

George presses his face against the prisoner’s calloused palm, placing his own hand on top of Dream’s. _I’m sure_. 

Soft lips collide with George’s forehead, then trail down to his eyebrow, leaving a tingly sensation in its wake. Dream’s kisses linger on his swollen eye and all over his red cheeks. Then, his eyes fall onto George’s bottom lip and the red cut that slashed into the soft skin. There’s only a moment of hesitation before they collide. 

The kiss is soft and cautious and above all, incredibly _slow_. Dream moves as if George would shatter under his touch, but his hesitant movements start a flame within George. Every fiber of his being was asking for more. The prisoner pulls away too soon and George leans in to capture his lips again, sliding his hands up Dream’s chest and fisting the fabric of the orange jumpsuit. He moves desperately, coaxing Dream to follow his lead. Dream’s tongue slips through George’s lips, causing a shaky breath to escape George’s lungs. Rough hands move down to grip George’s hips, sending an electric pulse through his body as the space between their bodies becomes nonexistent. 

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed this,” Dream confesses against George’s lips, his eyes half lidded. 

“Maybe I should’ve shown up with bruises earlier” George mumbles, detaching their lips and leaving sloppy kisses on Dream’s jaw. 

Dream grunts as George’s lips latch onto his neck and suck. Wandering hands trail down Dream’s torso and George can feel Dream stiffen underneath him. 

“Maybe I should leave more bruises on you,” Dream suggests in a low voice, grip tightening around George’s hips. 

“Maybe you should make that a reality,” George whispers, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he imagines Dream leaving bites and hickeys all over him. George’s tired, bruised body aches to be marked again. 

The next thing George knows, he’s being lifted off his feet and tossed onto the prisoner’s bed, the frame shaking a bit as he lands on his back. He looks up to see Dream unbuttoning his jumpsuit, keeping his eyes locked on George as he reveals the white t-shirt underneath. 

“When you leave here,” the prisoner starts, reaching the end of the line of buttons and shrugging the orange fabric off his shoulders. “I’ll make sure you’ll have double the bruises.” 

George’s heart pounds against his chest in anticipation. There isn’t anything else he’d want more of at this moment. Finally, _finally_ , he can be completely and utterly his. “Promise?”

_“I promise.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/creatio_nihilo) !!!  
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated <33


	3. Beat My Heart To Black and Blue

“What’s it like out there?” a soft whisper seeps into George’s ear. 

It was George’s eleventh— maybe twelfth visit to the prison after George showed up with bruises. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable routine with each other, one that consisted of delicate kisses and discarded clothes. Neither of them talked about what they were exactly, where their relationship stands, but they didn’t really need to. 

They had their own little world inside that prison cell. A world that revolved around just the two of them. They didn’t need to complicate things. 

Entangled limbs shift against one another on the prison bed as George looks up at Dream. The two were laying on their sides, face to face, their clothes scattered on the cell floor. He was too busy mentally tracing the freckles on Dream’s cheeks to hear his question the first time. 

“You know. How is everyone doing?” Dream repeats, rubbing circles into the dip of George’s back.

“Oh, uh. They’re fine, I guess,” George responds with a light shrug. It feels weird to think about the outside world while he was in there. “I haven’t really been keeping up with a lot of people, but Sapnap is doing great. Quackity and Karl, too.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” the prisoner mumbles. His bottom lip slips between his teeth for a millisecond before being released. “I miss them. A lot.”

George’s lips droop to a small frown. “I-I’ve been trying to convince them to visit but…” his words trail off, indicating his lack of success. He doesn’t remember how many times he’s brought up the idea to the others, only to get waved off or flat out rejected. 

“It’s alright. I get it,” Dream sighs, his eyes averting away from George as he turns onto his back. “Seeing me is probably the last thing they’d want to do, anyways.” 

“Dream, I’m sure they’ll come around eventually—”

“I  _ said _ that it’s alright, George. Just drop it, okay?” 

Neither of them talk about it for the rest of George’s visit, but that’s the first time George sees it. The first time he  _ feels _ it. 

Over the next few visits, Dream keeps asking about the others and what was happening outside the walls of the prison. Who’s rebuilding the community house, what’s Tommy and Tubbo up to, how’s Ranboo doing— Dream wants to know about everything. Yet every time George gives him an answer, Dream always ends up looking forlorn and regretful. Almost as if he didn’t want to know the answer in the first place. 

George can tell that he was still hurting. Even with George being there as much as he could, he can see it in those brilliant green eyes. 

Dream misses the world, being outside. He misses being free more than anything. 

So, George makes it his goal to become the only thing in Dream’s eyes. George could be enough. He  _ needed  _ to be enough. 

He starts avoiding the questions as much as he can. Changing the topic, pretending he didn’t hear them, answering vaguely— anything to keep Dream from getting that miserable look on his face, to hold onto the blissful atmosphere that housed them whenever Dream solely focused on George. 

And after a while of deflecting, George thinks that it works. Dream seems to drop the questions. The inquiries about everyone outside the prison came to a halt, and their conversations were void of any mention of other people. George thinks that he’s done it. That he’s successfully avoided conflict within their own corner of the universe.

But then Dream asks him something outrageous. 

“Would you run away with me if I asked you to?”

George, in the middle of pulling a shirt over his head, manages to sputter, “Dream, what are you saying—“

“Hypothetically speaking, of course,” Dream adds, noticing the suspicious and taken aback look on the brunette’s face. He sits at the edge of his tiny bed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at George. “Imagine if I wasn’t in prison right now and I asked you to elope with me far, far away from all the drama, would you?”

George hesitates, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to entertain such an idea, especially one that’s as far out as this, but the look on Dream’s face, the intense gaze fixated on George as if he was the only star in the galaxy— it made George forget about all his efforts to maintain the peace in their little world. 

“As tempting as that idea is, Dream, I don’t know if I can just drop everything,” George answers truthfully, sitting beside Dream on the mattress. “I, uh— I’m kind of part of a new faction. Kinoko Kingdom. It’s a cute little mushroom town we’re building. Karl, Sapnap and I started it, though with the amount of times I’ve skipped out on them to come see you, they’ve basically kicked me out as co-founder.” 

George expects at least a hint of amusement from that last line of his, but he’s met with a heavy silence. 

“W-what I’m trying to say is that, hypothetically, I think I’d want you to live with me there. With Karl, Sapnap, and Quackity as our neighbors.”

He imagines the two of them settling down in an adorable mushroom house, far enough away from the other houses for privacy but close enough to have their friends over whenever they wanted. He imagines getting a cat or two and giving them ridiculous names. He imagines waking up next to Dream in the morning, soft sunlight seeping through their windows as they make breakfast together. The image of their left hands adorning matching rings as they watch the sunset from their mushroom roof makes a pained smile appear on George’s face. 

Dream chews the inside of his cheeks, his eyes glazing over as he gets lost in deep thought. As the silence drags on, George starts to panic, thinking that he said something wrong. But before he can open his mouth to correct himself, Dream speaks first. 

“I’m so sorry,” the faint words fall from Dream’s lips, a deep frown settling on his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make that a reality.”

“Dream, it’s fine. Really, I’m fine,” George reassures, his hand reaching out to caress Dream’s cheek as the panic leaves his body. “I’m happy with where things are now. As long as I’m with you.” 

Something flashes in Dream’s eyes, but it’s so fleeting that George barely has time to recognize it. A rough hand reaches to hold George’s hand. 

“You know I love you, right, George?” Dream asks. “I know that I tend to say that to all my best friends but George, I’m in  _ love  _ with you. You’re not just my best friend, you’re… you’re everything to me. I just want you to know that no matter what, even if we’re apart, I’ll  _ always _ love you.” 

His words are sickly sweet, almost straight out of a cheesy romance movie, but George doesn’t care. In fact, they’re exactly what George had needed to hear. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” George’s voice wavers, the doubt in his mind dissipating into an overwhelming sense of clarity. Dream was completely his, through and through. He finally says the words that he’s been terrified of saying this entire time.

“I love you, too.” 

————————————————————————

Their story should have ended there. It should have ended with the love confession exchange, both sides completely accepting their restricted relationship, fated to live inside the obsidian walls forever. 

They should have had their happily ever after, but the next time George goes to the prison a few days later, Sam doesn’t show up. Or at least, not as fast he usually does. 

George stands outside of the ender portal, waiting for Sam to come and let him in. Usually, the warden appears within a few minutes, if not seconds, but George is left stranded for a good twenty minutes outside the prison. 

Concern eats away at George’s stomach, his fingernail wedging itself between his teeth as he chews on it anxiously. 

_ Did something happen to Sam? Is there a problem in the prison? Is Dream okay?  _

Before George can spiral even further into his own paranoid mind, Sam finally steps through the ender portal. A sigh of relief comes out of George’s lungs. 

“Geez, Sam, I was beginning to think that something bad happ— “

“No visitors today. Go home.” Sam's voice is stern and laced with frustration. The grip on his trident was causing his knuckles to turn white. 

“What? Why?” George asks, the paranoid feeling seeping back into his bones. “Sam, what’s going on?”

A moment of hesitation. “There’s... been a security breach.”

“I-I don’t understand. Is someone trying to get in or something?”

“Something like that. Look, just go home, George,” Sam orders again. He turns to go back into the portal, but a hand grabs his arm.

“Sam, just tell me what’s going on here. You’re scaring me,” George says, the grip on his arms tightening.

The warden stalls for a few moments before answering. “The prisoner escaped.”

Pure, unadulterated panic floods into George’s brain.

“What? Y-you’re lying,” George denies, his voice quivering as he shakes his head. “Dream is still in there. He  _ has  _ to be in there.”

“I think I’d know if he was still in the cell, George,” Sam claims, shrugging off George’s grip. “He’s missing. I’ve swept the entire prison twice, yet somehow he’s managed to not leave a single trace behind.”

George’s head starts to spin. “No! No, no, no, you’re wrong, You’re  _ wrong _ , Sam, he can’t just be  _ gone _ ,” he rambles, the volume of his voice increasing as he continues. “He wouldn’t just  _ leave _ !”

He thinks back to all his visits to the prison, the pure joy he felt while being next to him. The satisfaction he felt in finally having Dream all to himself. He remembers when Dream said he was his everything only a few days ago and the liberating relief that washed over him. 

But now, the thought of Dream orchestrating an escape plan between his visits is making George sick. 

“H-he told me that he loved me!” George practically shrieks, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. His nails dig into his palms, sure to leave painful marks. “We were fine, Sam, we were finally  _ happy _ ! H-he wouldn’t do this to me again! He wouldn’t— ” George chokes on the lump forming in the back of his throat. His vision becomes blurry and he realizes that tears were pooling at his waterline, threatening to fall at any moment. 

And for the first time since he first visited Dream, George sees Sam’s usual stoic expression melt away before him, a soft look of sympathy flickering in his eyes. George almost forgets that Sam was the only witness to his relationship with Dream, the only person who saw George fall deeper and deeper with each visit. In a sense, he was the only one who could understand. 

“I’m sorry, George,” Sam says, the gentle tone of his voice feeling completely foreign. “ _ He’s gone _ .” 

It pushes George over the edge. Salty tears cascade down his cheeks. Unrestrained sobs escape George’s throat, the sound of his wails almost unrecognizable to his own ears. Sam’s words echo in his mind as his entire body starts to shake. 

And it finally hits him. 

After all the forgiving, all the effort he put in to stay by Dream’s side, George was always so,  _ so _ naïve. Looking back on it now, he knows he held onto his fantasies too tightly. He really thought that he knew Dream the best, that he understood his words and actions, maybe more than Dream himself. But it was so obvious that George was only hearing what he wanted to hear. 

Because Dream’s words from his last visit wasn’t just a romantic confession of love.

_ It was a goodbye.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing angst is hard. 
> 
> I’m not sure if I want to write a sequel to this, but I wouldn’t be against it if I come across an interesting idea for one with a happier ending. I just genuinely couldn’t see their relationship working out in this situation. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading my first ever fanfic! I’m excited to write more dnf content and I’ve already got a few new ideas lined up (with happy endings this time, I promise). 
> 
> Feel free to let me know how I did in the comments or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/creatio_nihilo) :]]


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